


10.11

by bonebo



Series: Kinktober '16 [11]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Kinktober, M/M, Masochism, Sadism, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 01:44:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8268071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: Jesse McCree has always been a disciple. 
  kinktober 11 - Sadism/Masochism





	

Jesse McCree has always been a disciple. 

He was raised to believe in a God almighty, even if his memories of bowing his head over breakfast and dropping to his knees at night are dark and fuzzy around the edges; slow-dragging time and hardship chipped away at his faith until it was stripped bare, reduced it to bones beaten clean by the driving desert sand, but not even Deadlock could strip him entirely of his spirituality, his devotion, his willingness to serve.

Years later, with the mark of Blackwatch sitting heavy on his shoulder, he’s found a new King.

His worship takes him to a dark room in the early hours before dawn, and he kneels inside four soundproof walls without needing to be commanded, ever perceptive and obedient. He hears footsteps follow him in and knows the stride as Reyes’s, as surely as he knows his own racing heartbeat.

“You know you don’t have to do this.” Leather uncoils, hits the ground with a soft noise; Jesse shivers, goosebumps rising along his bare torso, and widens his stance. The muscles across his back and shoulders tighten, preparing. “I wouldn’t think any less--”

“Boss.” Jesse licks his dry lips but doesn’t dare look over his shoulder--he can picture Reyes’s tight face and thin lips clearly, the memory having no need for visual aid. “Just do it.”

Then silence. Jesse knows Reyes won’t ask him again. He also knows that if he needs to, one word will bring everything to a halt and have Gabriel at his side, all concern and comfort, in a heartbeat. 

The whip’s tail drags along the ground like a whisper as Reyes draws back. Jesse closes his eyes.

The first lash is always the worst--it bites into Jesse’s skin hard enough to pull a gasp from between his clenched teeth, rocks him forward on his knees. He bows under the pain of it, and before he can breathe--before he can tense up, make it worse--there’s another, driving into him and forcing the air from his lungs, peeling the skin off his shoulders. 

Reyes doesn’t let up. The cracks of the whip ring out in the washrack as he mercilessly presses on, swinging and striking and bringing blood to the surface of Jesse’s skin, relentless in his efforts to satisfy--to free Jesse from the guilt that shackles him and to indulge in his own vices. 

It’s a delicate balance, what he does here; a punishment for Jesse, and a reprieve for himself, a way to quiet both of their demons. A way to make them both better; level heads stayed on shoulders longer.

Jesse, for his part, endures. He breathes between the strikes and lets the clean, pure rush of pain zip through his nerves like fire, burning away everything else--stripping him of the guilt, the grief, the weight of the blood on his hands. It’s a penance, a payment; something he must do, humbling himself before his God and Master and letting each lash of the whip bring him closer to salvation. 

He doesn’t know when he starts crying, doesn’t know when Reyes stops; all he knows is one minute he’s being consumed by blistering pain, stripped down to nothing by the whip’s harsh bite, and the next he’s being pulled against a strong chest with fingers carded through his hair. Reyes’s voice is soft in his ear, quiet reassurances of “You’re okay, Jesse”, and “I’ve got you”, and Jesse sinks into the voice like it’s spoken comfort, like it’s home. 

He knows that the results of this will last--relies on it. His back will ache for days to come, and he’ll have to change out the bandages at least twice. Scars will settle over his skin, marking him.

But at least until the cleansing pain, the reminder, wears off, Jesse McCree will be free.


End file.
